


A Theory About Love

by maraudeer



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Alexei is the son of a Russian diplomat, Chasing Liberty AU, Kent has a secret, M/M, pretty much the whole cast of characters will make an appearance, they go on a good old fashion American adventure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudeer/pseuds/maraudeer
Summary: Alexei is the son of a Russian diplomat. Kent's the idiot whose job it is to protect him.or, the Chasing Liberty au only I asked for
Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 36





	A Theory About Love

“I’m not a baby, Papa. Can’t I do just this one thing?”

Alexei’s dad shook his head and took another sip of his coffee. “I don’t want to hear it, Alyosha. We came to America for a diplomatic trip, not so you could fornicate with American men.”

Alexei sputtered. “Are you—Papa, it’s New York City Pride, not an orgy.”

Papa raised his eyebrows and said in Russian, “This is America. Everything is an orgy.”

Alexei turned to his mom. “Mamma, tell him he’s being unfair.”

His mom smiled sympathetically. “This is between you and your father.”

Alexei groaned. “I’ve spent all summer doing what you want. I’ve come to America to be your right hand man in all these meetings with American politicians. Why can’t I have this one thing?”

Alexei’s dad sighed and looked at his watch. Alexei and him could have been mirror images of each other, except Papa had wrinkles around his eyes and a perpetual frown whenever he spoke to his son in private.

Alexei still had his youth. And he’d be damned if he let his father waste all of it away.

“Alyosha, how would it look if the son of a Russian diplomat was seen at New York City Pride? Hmm? You don’t think that would cause trouble for me? For you?”

Everything about his tone was condescending, but Alexei had thought all this through. He had a very articulate plan to get around the fact that his father thought everything except maybe breathing and sleeping had the potential to be scandalous. 

Unfortunately, Alexei’s ability to construct rational arguments abandoned him the second he got upset. “Papa, no one knows me here. New York City is big. Why can’t you just—”

Papa put a hand in the air as if to say stop. “That’s enough now. The answer is no. I’ll see you tonight for the party.”

Without another glance at Alexei, he rose from the breakfast table, kissed his wife on the cheek, and left the room, his security guard trailing behind him. 

The party. Yeah, the lamest party ever! It was just going to be a bunch of politicians and their kids telling lies with smiles on their faces. Alexei felt sick.

“Try not to be angry with him, Alyosha. He’s just trying to protect you.”

Alexei loved his mom. He did, but he couldn’t stop how cold he sounded when he asked, “Do you realize we have been in D.C. for two weeks and I haven’t been able to even take an afternoon to see the sights? This is my first trip to America and I have nothing to show for it except meetings with Papa...I’m basically just a glorified lackey.”

“Don’t say that,” she took his hand. “You know he just wants you to learn from him, so you’ll be prepared when your career in politics takes off.”

Alexei pulled his hand away. He didn’t want a career in politics. What he wanted was a hockey career—might have been good enough for one too if Mamma and Papa hadn’t made him quit to focus on school. And so he had given up on his hockey dream and instead went to college at a school his dad approved and spent his summers working at his dad’s office. All in the hopes that when he graduated he could pursue his next best option.

If he couldn’t play hockey, he could at least report on it.

But it had been a year since graduation, and Alexei still hadn’t worked up the courage to tell his parents he didn’t want the life they were building for him. He took it out on them in smaller doses: not wearing a jacket or tie to a meeting, getting drunk at a dinner party, asking for one fucking day of no meetings so he could go to the New York City Pride parade. 

He ripped apart a slice of toast. His mother sighed, “I’ll talk to him. Pride is off the table, but maybe I can get him to agree to a sightseeing day. How does that sound?”

“It sounds like something long overdue.”

She smiled and pushed his hair off his face, “Be patient, my love.”

Alexei was tired of being patient.

…

Alexei was drunk. He’d spent enough time at functions drunk that he knew how to act sober. He had not, however, figured out a way to hide his anger when drunk.

“Papa, come one, it’s one day of exploring the capital.”

The part was in full swing—Men in fancy tuxedos and women in glittering dresses. The third floor mezzanine of the Smithsonian American Art Museum was lit with a thousand little flowing lights, a lovely scene ruined by sounds of pompous laughter and dull conversations.

“Really, Viktor, I think you’re being a little strict about this,” his mom came to his defense. “One day of no work isn’t going to kill anyway.”

“We are not discussing this here—” Papa hissed. “I said no.”

“Fine,” Alexei said, grabbing a champagne flute from a passing server. “Then if you’ll excuse me.”

He downed the drink, feeling the expensive, bubbly stuff hit his stomach. He walked away, not caring about the scowl on his face. And diligently ignoring the two body guards trailing after him. Two fucking guards at a state party.

He took the stairs down to the main third floor and then down another flight of stairs to the second floor, passing some of the most famous art America had to offer. He felt like kicking something—he couldn’t even enjoy any of it. 

There weren’t many people down here as it was after the museum’s normal hours and the party was being held on the floors above him. He turned around and said to his guards, “Just give me a minute—God, just—”

He didn’t finish his thought, just turned around and entered an exhibit. He didn’t hear footsteps behind him and realized they were actually respecting his wishes.

It felt sort of good, but he didn’t like that he had to yell to be heard.

He paced the room.

He shouldn’t take it out on his security. They were just doing their jobs. Granted, Alexei thought they had pretty shitty jobs. He couldn’t imagine having the freedom to choose any job in the world and choosing to follow an angsty twenty-something around all day. 

Maybe it wasn’t that simple. Ugh, Alexei didn’t know. All he knew was he felt like shit for acting like an ass.

“Are you actually going to look at the art or are you just gonna keep staring at your shoes while you pace?”

Alexei turned towards the voice. It came from a young man—maybe about Alexei’s age—who leaned against the entrance to the exhibit. He had his hands in his pockets, a smirk on his face, and a head of blonde hair that had been styled but still didn’t look neat, somehow.

Alexei felt himself blush. This man was good looking and staring at Alexei, who probably looked like a drunk mess.

“Uh,” he glanced at the painting hanging on the wall. “I was getting around to it.”

The man laughed and came further into the room. He sat on the bench and leaned back on his hands, facing the painting. 

“Well, I came to look at it,” he eyes Alexei. “Handsome as I am, I am not the most beautiful thing in the room.”

Alexei blushed more and really regretted that last champagne. “Sorry—I’m not—I mean I wasn’t trying—”

The man smiled, “Don’t worry about it.”

He looked at Alexei and then the spot next to him. Alexei took the hint and sat. They looked at the painting, and Alexei realized he must seem like an idiot.

It was the famous portrait of America’s last president—Obama. He sat in an ordinary chair with foliage all around him. He almost seemed to tangle with the leaves.

“What kind of self-absorbed idiot doesn’t take notice of a painting like this?” Alexei asked aloud.

“A Russian one, maybe,” the man answered with a small smile on his face like he thought himself a comedian. Damn it, he wasn’t just hot, he was really cute too.

Alexei asked, “You admire him? President Obama?”

The man shrugged, still looking at the painting, “Eh, I’m not big on politics.”

Alexei smiled. “How does a man who doesn’t like politics end up at a party like this?”

The man pulled at his clothes, the same as all the other servers at the party. “Hey man, I’m just the help. How about you? What are you doing down here instead of up there with the most important person at the party?”

“Who’s the most important person at the party?”

“Depends on who you ask, but they’ll all say themselves.”

That made Alexei laugh. A really loud, almost happy laugh. The man seemed surprised by this, but his expression quickly settled into something amused and just a little bit smug.

Yes, Alexei was quickly growing to like this stranger.

“I don’t like parties like this. I wish I could be anywhere but here.”

The man looked him up and down and smirked, “That could be arranged.”

It wasn’t like Alexei didn’t know flirting when he witnessed it. But being the son of a Russian diplomat meant that flirting usually came from brilliant women and not handsome American men.

He floundered. “Uh, well—I, um.”

The man laughed but not in a way that felt mean. “Hey, man, don’t worry about it. I’m just messing with you.”

Alexei nodded and then felt ridiculous for nodding. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“Kent Parson.”

“Kent Parson, well, I’m—”

“Alyosha, what the hell are you doing down here?” Alexei’s dad asked in Russian. He sounded livid.

Alexei stood up from his seat and, with a glance at Kent Parson, followed his father out of the room. He spoke in low Russian, “Papa, I just needed a minute.”

“What you need is to grow up. There is a room full of people upstairs. How do you think it looks when I have to go chase after my grown son who thinks it’s appropriate to throw tantrums?” 

“Okay, I admit I was mad, but I think the term tantrum is an exaggeration.”

His dad scowled at him, and he wondered if his own usually kind face looked that mean when he was angry. He wondered if this intimidating version of himself was when Kent saw earlier.

“Papa—” he started.

He realized he never wanted to look like that—Angry, unhappy, maybe even just a little bit power hungry.

His father grabbed his arm. “We’re leaving. We’re going to have a very serious talk about your behavior tonight.”

Alexei pulled his arm away. “No, Papa. I’m not ten years old anymore. You can fire me or you can live with my behavior. Those are your two options.”

He turned away before his father could say anything else. He saw Kent, his head sort of peaking out from the other room. Without overthinking it, Alexei grabbed his hand and started for the stairs to the first floor. Kent followed.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” he heard his father say to someone—presumably their family’s security. “Go get them.”

On the first floor, Alexei pulled them into an exhibit that had its lights off. Kent pressed against him. Their hands were still clasped together. Alexei couldn’t remember the last time he had been this close to another man. And he didn’t think he had ever stood up to his dad like that.

A moment later Alexei saw his two security guards walked past their exhibit room and out the front doors.

Kent broke away from him. “What the hell is going on man?”

Alexei pushed his hands through his hair. “Sorry, sorry. That was my boss. He’s an ass.”

“So what? Did you quit?”

Alexei frowned. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Kent threw his hands in the air. “Far be it from me to pry. Do you want to go back to the party?”

“No,” Alexei said. He couldn’t think of anything he wanted to do less.

“Okay,” Kent said. “We could just hang out here for a bit.”

“Did you mean it?” Alexei asked.

“Mean what?”

“That we could get out of here? That it could be arranged?”

Kent hesitated, so Alexei grabbed his hand. “Come on, show me the city. I don’t want to be here. Let’s just go somewhere.”

“Alyosha?” It was his mother’s voice calling from far away.

Alexei sighed. “Sorry. I’m not meaning to be so forceful. You have to work. I know. I’m going to get out of here though.”

It was probably the romantic in Alexei that thought it was a good idea to ask this handsome stranger to run away from the party. And it was the realist in him that was embarrassed that he actually did it.

“It was nice meeting you, Kent Parson.”

He moved towards the exit. 

“Oh fuck it,” he heard Kent say, and when Alexei turned around he saw that he was smiling. “I’m up for a night of adventure.”

…

Kent Parson was not up for a night of adventure. 

He was up for a boring night of doing his job of keeping Alexei Mashkov, son of the esteemed Russian diplomat Viktor Mashkov, safe. 

Alexei Mashkov had other plans. 

Alexei Mashkov had to go and get in a fight with Kent’s boss and run away from the party. Leaving Kent, the only agent who knew where he was, to go after him.

God, Kent was never working undercover again.

“Let’s go see the Washington Monument. It looks beautiful. No, let’s go stand in front of the White House. No, let’s go to a bar!”

As soon as Kent got Alexei’s drunk ass back safely to his father, Kent was quitting.

“You came all the way to America and you want to go to a bar?”

“What else is America good for?”

“A lot of things, asshole,” Kent said, but he couldn’t bring himself to sound anything other than amused. “Freedom, for example.”

“Freedom,” Alexei mused. It sounded funny in his accent. “I like that word.”

Skipping ahead of Kent, he shouted in the open night air, “I’m free! I’m free!”

Kent rolled his eyes. Not exactly. As soon as Kent could pull out his phone and make a phone call without Alexei noticing, the other agents assigned to Alexei would be with them in minutes. 

Kent almost felt bad about it as Alexei pulled the tie off from around his neck and tossed it away. Kent picked it up and stuffed it in the pocket of Alexei’s jacket, which he had taken off and thrown into a bush two blocks ago. Kent had almost lost him when he took the time to retrieve it.

Alexei looked happy. Much happier than he did in the museum. He had this wide smile and those brown puppy dog eyes. It made it hard to remember that Kent’s job first and foremost was to protect Alexei and it was secondly his job to follow any of his boss’s orders, AKA Alexei’s dad’s orders. Alexei’s happiness was actually none of Kent’s business. 

Kent grabbed Alexei’s elbow and steered him away from the road. “Shh, you’ll wake up the whole city by shouting like that.”

“Sorry,” Alexei’s voice barely quieted, but he did sound sorry. And pleased when he glanced at Kent’s hand still on him. Kent released him.

“You know,” Kent said, leading them towards a bar he knew. Once there, he’d call for backup. “It’s a little weird that you would take me hostage but not tell me your name.”

“How could I take you hostage?” Alexei asked with a smile. “I thought you couldn’t make Americans do anything they didn’t want to do.”

“You think you’re cute.”

“You don’t think so?” He asked with a smirk.

Kent looked at him. He no longer looked like the dignified politician—although, really, that had never been a convincing look—his hair had turned floppy, his shirt sleeves were rolled up, and he had a happy flush across his face.

Before Kent could think of anything to say, Alexei’s face slipped into something unsure. “Tater. Call me Tater.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Tater? What kind of name is that?”

Alexei smiled. “It’s a hockey nickname.”

“You play hockey?”

“Oh yeah,” Alexei said, that false confidence back. “I play professionally in Russia. I’m kind of a big deal over there.”

Kent smiled as they finally reached the bar. He opened the door for Alexei and followed him through it. “I didn’t know I was talking to a big hockey star.”

“Oh, yeah, well,” Alexei said. “I try not to brag about it.”

“That’s very humble of you.”

Alexei shrugged, and Kent watched him take in the bar. It wasn’t a big place. A TV played football highlights and a group of women at the other end of the room seemed to be celebrating a bachelorette party. 

“Well, if you’re the athlete then I’ll let you cover the drinks.”

Alexei started towards the bar. “No problem.”

He was back in a second. “I don’t have any American money on me.”

“Okay,” Kent said. “I’ll get the drinks. You find a table.”

Alexei nodded. “That I can do.”

Kent shook his head as he made his way to the bar and requested two beers. He got out his phone and called the head of Alexei’s security detail. 

“Kent, where are you?”

“I’m at a bar about a half mile from the museum with Alexei.”

“What the hell man.”

“What the fuck was I supposed to do? It was your idea to send me in to talk to him in the first place. And then he was going to run away, what was I supposed to do?”

“Not let him go, motherfucker.”

“Well, that didn’t feel like a realistic option at the time.”

“God, this is why I said we shouldn’t hire any Americans for this trip.”

“Look,” Kent said. “He’s okay. Just drunk and needing to get away from the party. I’ll send you the address and you can come get him.”

The bartender set the two beers in front of Kent. Alexei had found a table, and the bachelorette party was converging on him. 

“Shit, Kent, hold on—”

There was a clatter on the phone and then another voice spoke, “Who am I speaking to?”

Kent recognized that voice. He’d most recently heard it yelling in Russian at Alexei in an empty museum.

“Kent Parson, sir.”

“You’re with my son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’m going to put you on speaker with my wife.”

God, was Kent going to get fired over the phone? “Look, sir, your son is fine.”

“I know. I know. Look, this is going to sound like a strange order, but we’re not sending back up to get Alyosha.”

“Uh,” this was not going how Kent expected. “Okay.”

“We talked it over,” A woman’s voice said. “And we know Alexei wants a bit of fun.”

“So we want you to stay out with him. Let him do what he wants—within reason—and by tomorrow he’ll be wanting to come home to us.”

Alexei was currently blushing, a pleased expression on his face, while a bachelorette touched his arm. Yeah, somehow Kent doubted their plan.

“Sir, I don’t think—”

“Trust us, it’ll work,” Mr. Mashkov said, and he wasn’t the type of man Kent was interested in arguing with. “Look, we have to get back to the party. Text us updates.”

The phone clicked, and the call ended.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Kent was quitting as soon as this night ended.

**Author's Note:**

> Have y'all ever watched Chasing Liberty, the early 2000s movie with Mandy Moore aka the president's daughter and the hot British bloke who may or may not be an undercover secret service agent as they traipse through Europe? Well you're in for a TREAT.
> 
> I want y'all to know I put off starting an essay that is due in two days to write this first chapter. If you enjoyed it even slightly, I expect comments and kudos. They will sustain me when my grades inevitably don't.


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